Forever Inferno
by CHRONICLE101
Summary: {MLP/GHOST RIDER X-OVER}{AU!} Amid an East New Los Angeles neighborhood running wild with gang violence and drug trafficking, two individuals wage war in the criminal underworld. May vengeance reign supreme! ::Rated M for explicit language, violence, substance/alcohol abuse, criminality, sexuality, and disturbing images::
1. Prologue: The Man from Hell

**NOTE** – This story is set in modern society where humans and ponies coexist with each other. All ponies and other creatures, such as gryphons, batponies, etc., are put in anthropomorphic form. However, the humans in the story, such as the Ghost Rider, stay in their original form. Also this story is a crossover of MLP and the _All-New Ghost Rider series_ featuring _Robbie Reyes_. Enjoy as always!

And lastly, I ONLY OWN MY ORIGINAL CHARACTERS!

* * *

 **|PROLOGUE|**

 **THE MAN FROM HELL**

* * *

 _"I am the punishment of God. And if you not have committed great sin, God would not have sent a punishment like me upon you."_

 _\- Genghis_

* * *

It was the pain that came first; then the light. The Earth pony stallion hissed in pain as the brightness pierced his eyeballs like needles. His head throbbed horribly as something wet dripped down his face. A few agonizing moments passed by before he could finally open his eyes. It took another few moments for them to adjust to the light. Why did everything look so _wrong_?

It then dawned on him that he was hanging upside down, hands tied tightly behind his back and ankles bound to the ceiling. He looked down to the floor, finding that he only hung three feet from the ground. _What the Hell?_ He squinted his eyes, trying to observe his obviously new surroundings.

The light's source was from the headlights of a car parked in front of him, engine still running. From the looks of how the room was set up, it seemed to be some-sort of garage. Chains dangled from the ceiling, each clinking ever so slightly. Tool chests, old tires, boxes, and various car parts were scattered all around the stuffy room. The scent of oil and something coppery hung heavy in the air. The stallion shook his head, instantly regretting it as he grimaced at a new spike of pain. He found that the wetness on his face was actually his blood.

 _How in the Hell did he get here?_

He tried reverting his memories back to the past few hours. He and his friends were out drinking at a local bar. It was a tradition they did every Friday night since their college days. He knew it was probably a bad idea to drive home after having a few drinks but he didn't have the money to haul a cab. So he bid farewell to his friends, got into his car, and drove for home. The stallion searched his mind for more details. He remembered coming to an intersection and then…

His eyes suddenly snapped open, zoning in on the car in front of him. Dread infected his core as cold realization hit him square in the face. He recognized this car.

It was a 1969 Dodge Charger, black as sin and radiating with immense power. This was the same car that rammed into his when he was driving across the intersection. It was the same car that caused his vehicle to flip several times before finally landing on its top. This car was the last thing he saw before blacking out. He _remembered_ this car. But what he remembered most was…

Panic, fear, and desperation was a powerful cocktail of emotions that filled his senses as he began struggling to get free. He had to get out of here. He had to get out of here before _he_ came back! Soon the pain in his head became too much and he gave up trying to free himself, slowing swinging back and forth. He gritted his teeth.

 _Why was this happening?_

He jolted in surprise as metal doors rolled open and someone stepped in. He stared as a man made his way around the car to face him. What the stallion saw almost made his heart stop.

Standing before him was a human man with a flaming skull for a head. He wore tight black leathers, a white rectangular upside-down horseshoe symbol embroidered on his chest. His red eyes bored down on the hanging pony before him. Terror spread throughout the stallion's brain like a virus. It was a sight made in Hell.

He began to hyperventilate as this man – this _creature_ – crouched down in front of him, the two now staring at eye-level. He had no skin on his face whatsoever, just pure flame and bone. Several cracks scarred his flaming skull, one of them in the form of a jagged "V". The stallion was so engrossed by the sight that he wasn't prepared when the man's gloved fist suddenly connected with his face, his nose crushing on impact. He screamed in agony as blood spilled out of his newly ruined nostrils. The man hit him again, this time in the stomach. The stallion gagged, the wind suddenly knocked out of him.

As he struggled for breath, the man stood up and walked to the other side of the room. He opened a rusty, old filing cabinet that sat in a corner and began rummaging through it. A few moments passed by when the stallion was finally able to get air into his lungs.

"Please…" he wheezed, his heart hammering violently, "Please, w-why are you-?"

His words died on his tongue as the man slammed the cabinet shut, finally finding what he was looking for. He put the manila folder between his teeth – which surprisingly didn't catch on fire – and shrugged out of his leather jacket, a white undershirt underneath. The stallion then realized that his head wasn't the only thing that was on fire. His entire body was as well.

Skin, muscle, and blood were replaced with flames and heat. He also found if he looked close enough, he could see the bones that made the human skeleton.

The man then tossed the jacket onto the hood of the car and began looking through the contents of the folder. The stallion found his voice again as the man paced in front of him. "C'mon, man, please! Let me go! I didn't do anything wrong – to you or anypony. I won't tell the police anything about this, I swear! Just let me go and I'll-!"

"You say you did nothing wrong," the man spoke up at last, his voice heavier and darker than his appearance, "I have evidence that says otherwise."

The stallion's brow furrowed. What was this creature talking about? "What are you-?"

"Lily Pad…"

His eyes suddenly widened. If his heart wasn't hammering hard before, it was now. It was as if the stuffiness in the room grew heavier. _Lily Pad._ It was a name he hadn't heard in years. A name he thought was long forgotten. How did-?

"Still don't know?" the man questioned. "Well, let me refresh your memory." He dropped the open file down onto the floor. The stallion looked down at its contents and his heart stopped for the second time.

There was a photograph of a pretty, young Earth mare. She had a blonde coat, green eyes, and a long, wavy red-violet mane. She was smiling but the smile didn't match her eyes, the image taken a time after innocence was stolen. There was also a newspaper clipping. It was dated ten years in the past and the headline read:

 _ **8-YEAR-OLD ASSUALTED IN PERPETRATOR'S HOME**_

A lump formed in his throat.

"Nine years ago," the man began, "a young filly was out selling candy for a school fundraiser. Her parents had decided she was old enough to go out by herself. Anyway, she came to the last house on her route, expecting to sell the last of her candy, collect the money, and go on her merry way. But that didn't happen, did it?"

He crouched down next to the stallion. The stallion couldn't find his voice this time, the past slowly coming back to haunt him. The creature continued.

"Unbeknownst to her, the stallion living there was drunk and high off drugs. Now here's where it gets interesting. Instead of sending her home and sleeping off the poison in his system, he decides to drag the filly inside and brutally assault her – _in his own home_." The stallion cried out in pain when the man suddenly grabbed him by his mane, gripping it tight.

"But what got me wasn't the fact that he raped her. It was that because of him, she'd never be able to have children," the man hissed, venom dripping from his every word. "Now if that's not fucking sadistic, I don't know what is."

Sweat dripped down the stallion's brow. He wasn't sure which sight made him more bilious: the picture of the mare he ruined or the creature who was about to ruin him. It was getting harder to breathe. This wasn't happening. _This wasn't happening._

"Look, man, I did my time!" he screamed, rage suddenly overtaking him despite the situation, "I was arrested. I went to jail. I'M ON THE FUCKING SEX OFFENDERS' LIST! I paid for my crimes. What is the point of all of this? What do you want from me?!"

The man's flames grew brighter as he seized the stallion by the neck, cutting off his oxygen. Silence reigned for a few agonizing moments, the stallion struggling for breath and the man staring menacingly at him.

"The point," he snarled, bits of fire spewing from his mouth, "is that same filly never got over it. She tried, she really did. But you fucking ruined her life. In fact, she killed herself a year after you got out. Her funeral was two months ago."

He tightened his grip. "Also, her dear, sweet mother wanted you to pay all those years ago when you were convicted. She believed you should've gotten the death penalty for what you did to her baby girl. And guess what? I agree with her."

He brought his captive's face closer to his, nose to nose hole. "So I'm going to make you suffer the same way you made Lily Pad suffer."

He then released the stallion, standing up. He then walked over to one of the tool chests and opened it.

"W-what do you m-mean?" the stallion sputtered, wheezing as air was pulled back into his lungs, "What are you g-going to do?!"

It was then that the man pulled out a screw driver and the stallion's eyes grew wide with horror. Memories of what he did to that poor filly came rushing back to him. _No, he wouldn't. He wouldn't dare!_

The man – the _creature_ \- turned to him. "Time to pay for your sins…"

The Earth pony could do nothing as a fate worse than death was brought down upon him. The night continued on as the room was filled with his screams.


	2. One: Hell Says 'Hello'

NOTE - Thanks for being patient with me. Enjoy as always!

* * *

 **|ONE|**

 **HELL SAYS 'HELLO'**

* * *

 _"As time passes, things change everyday_

 _But wounds, wounds heal_

 _But scars still remaining the same_

 _But tomorrow today's goin' down in flames_

 _Throw the match at the passed up place"_

 _\- Eminem (Beautiful Pain)_

* * *

 _ **SUNNY DAZE APARTMENT COMPLEX**_

The blaring of Jazzmania's alarm disrupted the peace of slumber as morning came at last. The mare groaned in annoyance and snuggled deeper into the covers. She did not want to get out of bed. As the alarm continued, she looked up at it and then pressed her face back into the pillows. But if she must, she must.

She turned off the alarm and threw off the covers. She then tossed her arms over her head and stretched, her wings stretching with her. As she yawned tiredly, she lazily scratched her head, her fingers slightly brushing against her horn. She got up and walked into the bathroom, the one that connected both her room and the hallway outside.

Once she finished her "business", she washed her hands and then splashed water into her face. She looked up at the mirror. Staring back at her was a decently attractive mare with a brown coat and short black mane. She had been told frequently that her best feature was her eyes. They were a striking yellow color, bordering on gold. She rubbed the sleepiness out of her eyes and then ran her fingers through her bed mane. It was time to start the day.

She cleaned her teeth, washed her face, and brushed her mane and the black tufts of hair at the end of her lion-tail. Finally yet importantly, she took out a roll of black athletic tape from the mirror cupboard and wrapped her hands. As she exited the adjacent bathroom, her torn left ear twitched and seconds later, the smell of hot chocolate filled her senses. She smiled.

The smell could only mean that her siblings were up as well.

She pulled some clothes from her dresser and quickly put them on. After she slipped on a bra, she folded her broad wings tightly against her back and shrugged on a hooded pullover. Then she put on her jeans and boots, grabbed her phone from its charger and left the room…

…Only to return seconds later when she realized she forgot her glasses. They were right where she put them the previous night - on her bedside table. As she slipped them on, her golden eyes were directed to a photograph which sat on the table as well. Displayed in a silver frame was a picture of two ponies. One was an Earth mare and beside her, draping a wing around her small frame, was a tall Alicorn stallion.

His eyes were a magnificent golden color, the same shade as Jazzmania's eyes.

A strong feeling of sorrow swelled from inside her chest as old memories threatened to come back to the surface. She swallowed the feeling down and set the picture back in its spot. She then checked to see if she forgot anything else and left the room.

There were no walls that separated the kitchen and living room so it was just one big space with a kitchen and living room combo. From what the manager had told them, their apartment was the only one made that way. Jazzmania didn't mind, however. She felt that it made it more unique and homey.

When she entered the small kitchen, the aroma of toasted bagels, steamy hot chocolate, and sugary cereal ravished her nostrils. The chattering from the TV in the living room played loudly in the background. Already sitting at the kitchen table was her younger sister, Terra Jade.

She was a pale grey Unicorn mare, her long, black mane pulled tightly into a bun. She was still in her pajamas - a blue tee and bottoms decorated with pink flowers. She was writing notes in a small blue book as she telekinetically spread cream cheese on her bagel. Jazzmania took a bowl out of the cupboard above the sink and took a seat at the table. A tall box of _Cinnamon Munchies_ was already waiting for her. She poured a good amount into her bowl with milk and began to eat.

The two sat in complete silence, the only sounds that could be heard was Jazzmania's chewing and the scribbling of Terra's pencil. That pencil, however, stopped moving as her ears perked up. The sounds of incoming sirens resounded from outside their apartment. A pensive expression appeared onto Terra's features.

"Another break-in?" she asked as she finished a sentence in her book.

"That or another mugging," Jazzmania responded, shoveling more cereal into her mouth. Screams and vulgar language could be heard over the sirens. Whatever was happening, it was serious.

Terra then snapped her book shut. "Things have been getting crazy around here lately." She sighed as she repositioned her small glasses. Her hands were shaking, which only happened whenever she was nervous about something. She looked at her sister. "Don't you think it's getting too... _lively_ here?"

Jazzmania stopped mid-chew and then swallowed slowly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean do you think it's getting too dangerous?" Terra swallowed wetly as what she was planning to say came to mind. "We live so close to Hillrock Heights and things are starting to get unruly. People are getting murdered; new gangs are appearing everyday...are we even safe here anymore?"

"Of course we are," Jazzmania got up from the table and opened the cupboard to pull out a mug. "This is the safest apartment building anypony could hope to live in. We've always been safe here."

"Yes but that was when Dad was here," Terra commented as she turned in her seat, her sister pouring orange juice into her mug. "Now that we're on our own now, don't you think it's time for a change?"

"A change, huh?"

"It could be good for us. I thought you may want that too. I mean, after what happened..."

Jazzmania stopped mid-pour as her eyes darkened a few shades, her pupils shrinking into pinpricks. Her thoughts fleeted back to the photograph. She shook her head quickly and forced a small smile on her face before turning around to her younger sister.

"We don't need to change," she said slowly, her eyes slowly returning to normal.

"It's just something to think about, Big Sis. I'm not asking you to make a decision right now."

"Nor will we ever," Jazzmania puts the juice back in the refrigerator before coming back to the table. "This is our home. It's where we spent our days since the...incident. We don't need to leave just because some screaming idiots got in trouble with the law."

As if on cue, more yells could be heard from outside.

"But what about-."

"Whatever happens here, I can take care of it," Jazzmania took a sip from her mug. "I protected us from harm so much. I can still protect us now."

"You won't always be there to save us, you know."

Jazzmania drank from her mug, eyes downcast. "It doesn't mean I can't try."

It was then that a another Unicorn mare with a long curly orange mane danced into the room, headphones covering her ears as muffled music filled the air. Like Jazzmania, she was already dressed for the day – a tie-dyed t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans. Ignoring the two other ponies, she made a bee-line to the refrigerator. She pulled out some grape juice and began to drink straight from the carton.

Terra gestured to the mare. "You know how she goes out every night to go clubbing. You gonna follow her around every time to ensure her safety?" Her tone was cynical.

Jazzmania too stared at their other sister. Jaxlynn Rhyme wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before placing the carton back in the fridge, her fluffy tail swishing along with the music. She then took a bowl from the cupboard with her magic and took a seat at the table. She hummed along with whatever she was listening to as she poured cereal into her bowl.

Jazzmania turned back to Terra as she another bite of her cereal, which became soggy. "Jaxlynn can take care of herself, same as you. We don't need to go anywhere."

Jaxlynn suddenly looked up, slipping off her headphones. "We're going somewhere?"

"Don't worry about it, Jaxlynn," Terra said softly, looking down at her hands. Jaxlynn looked skeptical for a moment before shrugging indifferently. She pulled on her headphones and continued with her cereal.

Jazzmania took the opportunity to flee the situation, her mug of orange juice in hand. When she made it to the living room couch, she looked back at her sisters. Terra had reopened her small notebook as Jaxlynn flicked a piece of cereal at her, her tongue sticking out playfully. Staring at her two younger siblings, a feeling of calm washed over her and she smiled.

She loved her sisters. She would do anything for them.

After "The Incident" and unfortunate passing of her parents, Jazzmania made sure all three of them would always stay together. Sure, they had relatives and old friends of the family but it was always just the three of them. When she finally became of age, Jazzmania took over as guardian for her siblings and made sure they all remained in the apartment where they always lived in. For six years they stayed that way.

Sure, there have been some _disturbances_ around where they lived but they didn't need to go anywhere. As long as she still breathed, she would make sure her sisters were healthy and safe. In her mind, nothing was going to tear them apart. Her smile turned grim as she thought about the past. She really did love her sisters. She would die a thousand deaths in the deepest depths of Tartarus if something ever happened to them.

Her torn ear swiveled back, picking up snippets of the newscast on TV. _"…A disturbing discovery early this morning…_ " Her attention seized, she walked closer to the television, her sisters bickering in the background. She watched as an anchorstallion explained the day's events. The caption under him read:

 _ **BODY DUMPED AT GINGER ALE'S**_

Behind the anchorstallion was the live-footage of a crime scene. It was a montage of panic-stricken civilians, nosy reporters, frustrated police detectives, and yellow police tape.

"Big Sis, what's wrong?" Having noticed their sister's sudden interest in the television, the two younger siblings came to Jazzmania's side and turned their attention to the TV as well. In the middle of it all was a dead corpse. It lay on the ground covered in a white sheet, red splotches tainting its surface. Whoever this pony was, he hadn't died peacefully.

"Sweet Celestia…" Terra gasped softly as Jaxlynn cursed, slipping off her headphones once more. Jazzmania said nothing, her mug held close to her lips and golden eyes unwavering.

" _An Earth pony stallion was found dead in front of Ginger Ale's Liquor House early this morning_ ," the anchorstallion stated. " _Witnesses have reported to seeing a car speeding off just moments after the body was dumped at the site._ "

An image popped up on the screen beside him. It was the gritty still-footage from a security camera of one of the businesses across from Ginger Ale's. It showed a rapidly moving black car; it was a little hard to see since the footage was in black-and-white.

" _Due to the nature of the situation and the witnesses' statements, police suspect it's the workings of the notorious vigilante, known as The Devil of Hillrock Heights._ "

The still-footage was then replaced with another image. It was a snapshot of graffiti art. It showed a black car bursting out of a wall of glass. Its wheels and BDS blower was engulfed in flames, and a man was standing on its hood. He wore black leathers and in his hands were two sharp knives, a long, fiery chain connecting them. The most dominating aspect of him was his face. It was a slightly charred, flaming white skull. He had glowing red eyes and an evil skeletal grin. It was a rather grotesque sight.

 _Grotesque, indeed_ , Jazzmania thought to herself, a cold expression befalling her features. Her eyes had dulled a few shades again.

The live footage of the crime scene returned on the screen, the body again on full-display. " _If anypony has any information that can help the police in their search for this brutal killer, please contact your local authorities. You may be saving a life._ "

It was then Jazzmania downed the rest of her drink and readjusted her glasses. Her left ear twitched.

"I'm going out," she suddenly announced, involuntarily using her magic to set her mug in the sink as she headed to the living room closet.

"This early?" Terra asked as she watched her sister. "You didn't eat much. Where're you going?"

"Not sure," Jazzmania then pulled on an old baseball cap. "I'll probably just go walk around for a while. I'll be back in a few hours, though." She looked back at her sisters.

"Don't go and kill each other while I'm gone, alright? Love ya!" And Jazzmania left the apartment, locking the door behind her.

* * *

 _ **GINGER ALE'S LIQUOR HOUSE**_

" _BLAAARRRGGHH!"_

Junior Detective Stray Bullet, an Earth pony stallion was helpless to stop himself from hunching over, filthy sickness spewing from his mouth and onto the ground. He had never gotten used to being around dead bodies.

When he was first working at Narcotics, he was accustomed to paperwork, undercover jobs, and drug busts. There were a few bodies found during the job, but they were just simple cases of drug overdose. Now ever since he transferred to Homicide, he began working around bodies that were more afflicted than most.

Usually, he could hold his stomach whenever he came in contact with those kinds of corpses. But this…this was just too much.

"Jesus Christ, Bullet…You can't go through one case without vomiting all over the place, can you?"

Still hunched over with his hands on his knees, Bullet looked up at his partner of four months. Senior Detective Jude Ramírez, a Hispanic man was staring down at him, his face a mixture of disgust and annoyance. He was a few years older than Bullet, being more experienced in the field than he was.

Bullet coughed. "Sorry, it's just – it's just a lot to take in."

Jude sighed, looking away. "You say that every time. You can't even look at a lousy paper-cut without feeling nauseous."

"Hey," Bullet straightened up, once again feeling sick from the sudden motion. "Anypony would've gotten sick after seeing something like this!"

"Maybe so. However, try not to contaminate the crime scene, alright, _èse_?"

"I'm trying, okay? I just didn't expect the body to be in this type of shape."

This fact rang true, for the corpse lying on the ground was a sight to see. Or a sight _not_ to see.

The victim, an Earth pony stallion who they had not yet identified, seemed to have really met a brutal end. His coat was blackened, and marred with bruises and ugly gashes. His front looked as if it was beaten in, his chest showing obvious signs of broken ribs. His eyes were bloodied and swollen shut with bruises. What made the body even more horrific were the burns that were seared into its flesh. Whoever this victim was, he looked to have been beaten on hours at a time.

These were the workings of the Hillrock Devil…

Five years ago, a series of suspicious deaths plagued the streets of Los Angeles. Gangbangers, crooks, and killers were found either dead in their homes or dead in the street. Police didn't put much effort in these cases at first. The deaths were so random that there was nothing to support any similarities between them. However, that all changed when a well-respected middle schoolteacher's name appeared on the list of dead.

A full investigation was conducted and now police had a reason to believe that the killings were linked and done by the same person.

A ruthless vigilante, who was known by many names, has wreaked havoc on the city of LA for nearly five years now. At first, he started just beating up and busting criminals, and then handing them over to the police. Now he would hunt them down and kill them in the worst way possible.

Because of this, the LAPD worked around the clock to find this person before any further damage has been done. Unfortunately, though, they had nothing to identify the person's location or even his – or her - real identity so they were mostly working in the dark. All they knew was that he drove a car and that he usually operated in the East LA area. The investigation indeed proved to be frustrating.

But however frustrating the case may be, it was still the LAPD's top priority to find the Killer and bring him to justice. Some civilians might argue that they feel safer with the vigilante being around. That _he_ can to the LAPD's job better than they could.

This, however, didn't make him any less of a killer.

Bullet's queasiness finally subsided, his demeanor turning to one of ire. "Whoever this 'Devil' is, he's one sick son of bitch."

" _No coincido con usted más_ ," Jude muttered, speaking in his original tongue. _I couldn't agree with you more._

It was then that a tall, lean Unicorn stallion with a sickly grey coat and mane came up to them. Noticing how nauseous Bullet still looked, he used his magic to cover the body back up with the bloody sheet. He wore the uniform of a lead medical examiner and forensic expert. The nametag revealed the name, _Rigor Mortis_.

"Got anything for us, Mortis?" Jude inquired.

The Unicorn looked up from his clipboard, green eyes dull with stoicism. "Nothing new, I'm afraid. As usual, the killer took the victim to an unknown location, killed him, and dumped him here. Unfortunately, there isn't much evidence to determine where this location is."

"What about where the victim's car was found?"

Mortis shook his head. "Zilch. We'll scan the area again to be sure but the possibility of finding anything is very bleak."

Jude cursed inwardly. How can someone so brutal and so sloppy be so untouchable at the same time? The stress of this ongoing case once again gave birth to a migraine, causing him to pinch the bridge of his nose. The chief was not going to be happy…

"Cause of death?" Bullet chimed in, taking note of his partner's sudden discomfort.

"Strangulation." Mortis then used his magic to pull the sheet just enough to see the victim's neck. Strange burn-marks were branded into the throat, resembling that of a choker. "By the shape of the indentations, he used a chain. I'm assuming this modus operandi matches that of your man?"

Jude chuckled drily, forcibly pushing past his headache. " _Había alguna duda?_ "

He turned to Bullet who really looked a lot better. "Let's get back to the precinct. It might not be something he'll want to hear but the chief needs to be updated."

"Actually, there's something else," Mortis then reached into his pocket to produce a bloody screwdriver zipped up in a plastic bag. "I also found this."

Jude took the bag from him, brow furrowed. "There weren't any stab wounds on the body."

"That's because I found this deep within his rectum."

Bullet suddenly began to gag as Jude just stared at Rigor Mortis. _Did he mean…?_ But the question didn't need to be spoken aloud. The Unicorn's face had remained impassive as he gave them their answer.

"The victim wasn't just murdered, Detective Ramírez. He was also sodomized."

For the second time that morning, the ground was covered in sickness as Stray Bullet vomited once more.

* * *

It didn't take long for Jazzmania to get to the Liquor House…and that didn't sit well with her.

She watched the scene play out from across the street, witnessing a stallion vomit all over the place. Police officers were still keeping reporters and curious civilians in check, while the medical team prepared the body for transport. She pulled her hood up over her face. With her baggy clothing covering her wings, she looked like any other Unicorn. She then readjusted her glasses, eyes still dull.

The reason the situation didn't sit well with her was because of how close her home was to the crime scene. Sure, lots of crimes were committed close to where they lived but for some reason, this felt different. Jazzmania thought back to the conversation she had with Terra earlier that day. She suddenly couldn't shake the thought of the Hillrock Devil striking where her home was, her sisters caught in the crossfire. It was silly to think that since her sisters were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves, for their parents had taught them well. Still she couldn't help but wonder…

What if the vigilante decided to break into their apartment and attack them? What if he kidnapped one of them, or worse, both? What if instead of injuring them, he _kills_ them?

It was thoughts like these that made her mind ache. She had already lost so much. She didn't want to fathom what would happen if she lost Terra and Jaxlynn as well.

A dot of black appeared in her peripheral vision and she looked up.

A car sat at an intersection across the street, right next to the ongoing commotion. It was an old 1960s model. It was sleek black with a BDS blower protruding from the hood. It looked as if it had just rolled off the assembly line, its owner obviously taking good care of it.

Jazzmania blinked. It was natural for a car to stop during a crime scene, right? Of course, people were bound to stop and watch the chaos ensue, but why did she get the feeling that something was wrong? As if detecting her unease, the car turned a corner and drove off.

She shook her head and sighed heavily. _I'm letting this get to me…_

Looking at the crime scene once more, she turned and walked away. Perhaps she'll walk around a bit before heading back home. She had gone a good distance before stopping and looking up. Spray-painted on a wall of an old building was a large mural. This too featured the Devil of Hillrock Heights, this one a close-up of his face. Surrounding the picture were several white cross-bone symbols.

Standing there in front of the mural was a young Hispanic man. He was spray-painting another cross-bone symbol when she walked up to him. He didn't look up, continuing on his work.

"Whatcha got there, sugar pop?" she asked.

"Didn't you hear? Word is the Rider hit again last night."

"Who?"

He looked at her then. "The Ghost Rider."

Jazzmania, gold eyes reflecting confusion, stared at him. "You mean the Hillrock Devil?"

"Devil, Skeleton Driver, Flame-head Killer..." he shrugged. "He goes by different names but around here, we call him the Ghost Rider."

She looked at the mural again. The Ghost Rider - for some reason, that sounded more appealing than any of his other names.

"What else do you know about this 'Ghost Rider'?" she asked.

"Nothing really," he gestured to the mural. "All there is to know is that whoever sees his face ends up on this wall." He then shook his spray can and resumed his work. Jazzmania looked at the mural once more. For some unknown reason, those red eyes…seem to intrigue her.

She bid the man thanks and then walked away.

* * *

 _ **SOMEWHERE IN EAST LA**_

The worst part about being bonded with the Devil wasn't the power. It wasn't the dominance one would feel during a kill or seeing the fear in the victim's eyes. It wasn't even the pain of having your flesh melted off during every transformation, making room for flame. The worst part was the whispers. It was always, _always_ the whispers.

Robbie Reyes sat in the driver's seat of his black 1969 Dodge Charger, a headache already vibrating through his brain. The whispers weren't exactly coherent, they were mostly just gibberish. But by some miracle, he could still understand them. They were always whispers of pain and fear and anger. They were cries for help and cries of torment.

The whispers varied between volume, some were loud while others were soft. But they all had one thing in common. Vengeance…vengeance is what drove them. Vengeance is what fueled them and it only got worse at night.

Luckily, though, Robbie had the right kind of medicine.

He opened the glove compartment and pulled out a small bottle of golden-brown liquid. _Dragon's Breath Tequila_ was written across the label. He popped open the cap and downed the bottle in one gulp. He retracted the bottle from his lips and drew in a huge gasp of breath, the liquor burning down his throat worse than the fiery flames of Hell.

He and tequila had never really gotten along well but it did get the job done. Of course, the drink did not get rid of the whispers entirely; it just blended them together until there was only one left, one that was intelligible. A whisper he hated above all else but also feared, the whisper which called all the shots.

 _ **What are you waiting for?**_

Indeed, for he had a job to do.

* * *

9:55 p.m. were the numbers that flashed across the clock's surface. A middle-aged man, a figure of both muscle and fat, sat up and stretched. It was time to get ready for his night shift at the warehouse uptown. He got out of bed, careful not to wake the slumbering body next to him. He headed for the bathroom. On the way, he noticed something rather peculiar.

One of the windows in the hallway was open. He frowned. Had he left it open by accident? Sometimes he opened the windows when the air-conditioning broke down. However, he could not remember ever opening it that day. He slowly closed it shut and continued on toward the bathroom.

He turned on the light and immediately looked in the mirror, ready to begin his nocturnal routine. However, he never got the chance to, for there was a flash of orange and red, and a blistering heat suffocated the room. Before he even realized what was happening, the shower curtain, now ripped from its hooks, was forcibly wrapped around his head. His oxygen was immediately cut off as a tall hooded figure with a flaming skull for a head tightened an arm around his neck, keeping the curtain secure.

The man tried to scream but the air was gone, his lungs screaming in pain. He tried to ram his elbow into the intruder's side but to no avail. With a heart-shattering roar from his attacker, he was suddenly thrown through the bathroom door and back into the hallway. His back was now the one screaming in pain as he hit the ground. He tried to get up but the fight was drained out of him. His attacker ripped down the curtain's metal rod and kneed it until it broke in two. He dropped one half as he slowly approached the squirming man.

The man tried crawling away but he couldn't get far, for the pain in his back was too great. He cried out in pain when a hard boot forced him onto his stomach, his motor skills finally giving up. The man looked up at his attacker, his heart filling with dread at the sight. The Ghost Rider stood over him, a broken rod held firmly in his fist. The man began to hyperventilate.

"Please," he begged, once again trying to move. "Please, don't hurt me! I'll give you whatever you want! I'll-!"

His words turned into screams as the Rider brought the metal rod down upon the man's back, hard. Pure agony ran through his system. His breathing became heavy as his body tried to push through the pain. He could already feel his skin beginning to bruise.

It was then that the Rider starting whaling on him, not stopping for a second. Blow after blow, the man screamed in agony, silently praying for this torture end. After a while, bruises turned into welts, which then turned into ugly gashes. The man tried to turn over, not wanting his back to receive any more damage. However, this gave the Rider a good aim for his face.

The man's head snapped back as the rod struck the side of his skull. He landed painfully onto his back, his head throbbing. "Please...please, n-no more! Stop this torture!"

"Torture?" the Rider laughed. His voice sounded so dark that it seemed to rumble the man's very core. "This doesn't even measure up to what you did to those women." Before the man could question his meaning, the Rider suddenly straddled him, bringing the rod down upon his arm. The man screamed as he felt bones splinter and break.

"When I look into your eyes, I can see the pain and suffering those women endured because of you. I can hear their screams, I can hear their cries. I can hear how they begged you to stop, the same way you're doing right now." He brought the rod down again, this time in the man's face. The man tried to block the next blow with his uninjured arm, but the Rider grabbed it and twisted it hard. The man's screams increased in volume as tendons tore and his elbow disconnected.

"Doesn't this feel familiar at all?" the Rider asked as he hit him again. "You were at a motel outside of LA when you brutally beat a young woman nearly to death – with shower curtain rod, no less." Another blow and the man's nose crushed upon impact, blood spurting from his nostrils.

"P-please, I'll-I'll do anything! Just st-stop!"

"You want me to stop?" the Rider struck him in the mouth. "I don't recall you ever stopping when that woman begged you to. ' _Deténgase, por favor. ¡Haré lo que sea!'_ "

"Please, you d-don't understand! I was drunk-!"

"EXCUSES!" the Rider struck him again, this time the man's chest. Bones cracked as ribs broke. The man started hyperventilating again. He was in so much pain. He didn't think that he could last much longer. The Rider then got off of him.

"I don't want excuses," the Rider hissed angrily. "I want you to pay for your sins. I want you to suffer the same way you made those women suffer." He kicked out; his boot catching the man's already bruised and bloodied side. "Now beg me to let you live like the sorry little bitch you are."

He kicked again, this time forcing the man onto his stomach once again. The man cried out as the Rider pinned him down with his boot. He slowly looked up at his attacker. In all of his time living in this city, he had never seen a look with such hatred and malice. He then realized that he was never getting out of this alive. He finally broke down and started crying.

"P-ple-ease..." he wheezed, his teeth broken and mouth full of bloody saliva. "Ju-ust let me d-die..."

The Ghost Rider's face seemed to break out in a grin. "I thought you'd never ask." He brought the metal rod down one final time, the sound of a squishy crunch filling the air.

* * *

Robbie slowly came back to the world, the Rider fleeting back to the darkest corners of his mind. He dropped the bloody and broken shower curtain rod as he stared down at the lifeless body before him. This was a man who took pleasure in other people's pain. When Robbie first encountered this man, he saw a history of bruised and battered women, tortured screams, and sadistic laughs. After he saw what he did to that last woman, he knew there was no way he was going to let that man live.

Now that the deed was done, Robbie sighed heavily and looked up in time to catch his reflection in the window. A man in a hooded jacket with a flaming skull for a head and a body made of fire stared back at him. A _thing_ stared back at him. He cursed under his breath. Sometimes he wondered who the real monster was.

It was then when he heard a cry of emotional agony and he turned to see an Earth mare looking back at him. She was only in an oversized t-shirt, tears streaming down her bruised face. This must be the man's current girlfriend, and by looks of those bruises, his current punching bag. She must've woken up after hearing her boyfriend's screams.

Robbie went tense. He wasn't expecting on encountering anyone else tonight. He figured he get lucky, take care of this one job, and then call it a night. Then again, he had never believed in luck.

The mare finally took notice of the man standing over her now-dead boyfriend, frightened instinct taking over as she turned and ran towards the front of the apartment. Just when she had the front door open, Robbie had crossed the room in three strides, ramming back it shut with an open hand. The mare screamed as she pressed herself against the door, visibly shaking.

"Look at me," he said steadily as he stood over her. The mare ignored him, continuing to cry. He then grabbed her by the face with his other hand, forcing her look to up at him. "I said… _look_ at me."

She cried out in pain as she stared into his red eyes.

Being bonded with the Devil had its advantages. One of them was the ability to see another's sins, which how he could see the other man's past. This helped him decide who needed to be punished and who needed to be spared. Sometimes, though, it was difficult to control, for it mostly goes off on its own. And as he stared into this mare's eyes, he could see nothing of importance. She was just a mare who slept with the wrong man. He released her, the mare falling onto her knees. She hugged herself tightly, now bawling completely.

Robbie looked down at her, eyes blank. "I suggest you pack your things and go. There's nothing left for you here."

With that, he opened the door and walked out of the apartment. The whispers became almost nonexistent as he walked down six flights of stairs and exited the building into cool, night air. Amazingly, no one noticed him. He had made it halfway down an alleyway before hunching over and vomiting whatever was left in his stomach.

He and tequila had never really gotten along.

 _ **Having trouble you holding your liquor, Robbie?**_

"Not now, Eli," Robbie spat acidic saliva from his mouth and continued on, gloved hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

 _ **I don't understand why you let that whore go. We can't have any witnesses in this business, kid.**_

"She did nothing wrong. Besides, she's been through a lot. She just witnessed the murder of her piece-of-shit boyfriend." Silence reigned for a moment.

 _ **Serves him right, though, eh, Robbie?**_

Robbie looked down at the ground, a migraine slowly splitting his head wide open. For five years he heard this voice. For five years he had this curse. It was a curse he wouldn't wish on anyone, not even on people he hated. It was a curse of the Devil.

It all started one night when he and his younger brother went for a joy ride in the Charger, having the time of their lives. They were just two kids having fun. All that changed when a car rolled up next to them and the _Locos de la Quinta Calle_ , a local gang in their neighborhood, opened fire on them. Robbie tried to get away, tried to get his younger brother to safety. But it was all too much. Finally, the Charger crashed and the gang sped off, their job done. Robbie was sent through the windshield as the car was flipped onto its top.

He landed hard onto the asphalt before everything went dark. He thought it was over. He could hear his brother's voice calling to him from a ruined Charger but he couldn't speak. He couldn't move, couldn't see anything but utter blackness. He thought he was dead…until he heard a voice.

It was voice he hadn't heard before. It asked him if he wanted a second chance. Did he want to punish those who put his brother in danger? Did he want to avenge his own death and the deaths of others?

He answered, "Yes"…and Robbie Reyes was reborn.

For five years, he's been known as a ruthless vigilante, saving the innocent and punishing the damned. Some may say that he was living the dream. Now he was a superhero like the big green guy or even the flag-waver. But this wasn't a dream. This was a curse and Robbie was just another pawn in the Devil's schemes. He thought if he took down the _Locos_ , the curse would go away. However, that never happened.

So he started taking care of other people's problems, settling other people's scores, and that was around the same time when the whispers started. It was the same time when he began hearing _his_ voice as well. The voice of the one he's bonded with. Eli Morrow, now that was a name he despised more than the Devil himself.

As Robbie turned out of the alleyway, someone bumped into him. Almost immediately, several images flooded his brain and the world went dark…

 _It was hard to breathe, for the pain in his chest made it hard to receive air into his lungs. He lay on the ground, multiple gashes and bruises littering his body. His ribs may have been broken. Standing over him was a young man dressed in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, a bat on his shoulder. He couldn't be more than nineteen. A cocky grin stretched across his ragged face._

" _Well, bruh," he said, twirling the bat in his hand. "You gonna give me yo' money or whut?"_

 _He looked up at his assailant, eyes pleading. "Please…"_

 _The young man laughed. "Wrong answer, homey." The bat swung and before he could cry out, blood exploded into his mouth as his teeth was knocked loose from his gums…_

Robbie's mind came back to the world and he stumbled, his hood almost revealing his flaming face. He looked back at the one who bumped into him. He was a tall, skinny young man, dressed only in ratty jeans, an old sweatshirt, and messed-up sneakers. He had the physique and appearance of a possible drug addict. Whoever this person was, he looked just like the man who appeared in the memory. The man who vigorously beaten an innocent to death.

"No," Robbie groaned in annoyance, whispers already flooding his system. "Not again…"

 _ **It looks like we still have some work to do, Robbie. Are you handling this or should I?**_

Robbie looked back at his car which was parked not far from where he stood. He had already taken care of one job. He longed to hop into his car, go home, and sleep it off. But that's not how it worked. He had to do it if he wanted to gain any peace. The whispers were already increasing in volume. Finally, he made his decision.

"I'll take care of it," he said, rolling his neck. "You just sit back and watch, alright?"

Eli laughed inside his head. _**Well, what are we waiting for, kid? Let's fry some scum!**_

Robbie started walking.

* * *

Celestia's sun had set an hour before, making way for Luna's mystical moon. Jaxlynn Rhyme was walking down the dark streets of east LA. She still wore the same clothes from earlier but she had stuffed her mane into a dark, wool cap. Her headphones were on full-blast as she walked with a spring in her step. She was on her way to a new club called Neon Knights and it was located near Hillrock Heights. She had never been in that part of the city, for the neighbor really didn't have a good reputation.

In this part of the city, monsters ruled. Many different kinds of creatures ruled these streets. Gangsters hid in the shadows as they made deals and fought with rival gangs. Drug addicts, strung up and crazy with greed, stalked down alleyways. Tricksters and whores loitered in abandoned doorways, waiting to prey on the first sorry sucker they lay their eyes on. She passed by these types of people along the way but Jaxlynn wasn't worried.

She took care of herself, always had whenever she went out. Her twin sister, Terra never liked her going out at night. She would go on and on about the dangers of the world, and how one should be careful. Jaxlynn was more of a go-with-the-flow type of mare. An "I'll deal with it when it happens" type of attitude, like her big sister, Jazz. Speaking of Jazz...

 _Jazzmania turned back to Terra as she another bite of her cereal, which became soggy. "Jaxlynn can take care of herself, same as you. We don't need to go anywhere."_

 _Jaxlynn suddenly looked up, slipping off her headphones. "We're going somewhere?"_

" _Don't worry about it, Jaxlynn," Terra said softly, looking down at her hands. Jaxlynn looked skeptical for a moment before shrugging indifferently. She pulled on her headphones and continued with her cereal._

Her sisters have been having a lot of conversations without her lately. Was there something they didn't want her to hear? Whatever it was, Jaxlynn couldn't place it. Before long, she had made it to her destination. Standing before her was a massive warehouse building with large glowing lights that read, _NEON KNIGHTS_. The "K" was burnt out. Colorful flashing lights poured from the windows as pounding music filled the air.

It was getting close to 9:30 and a large crowd was already starting to form. She was surrounded by diversity of different species. There were humans, ponies, gryphons, a few wolven...she even passed by a couple of batponies. Jaxlynn looked up at the building once more, slipping her headphones off her ears.

She always got a feeling of exhilaration whenever she went to a club. Just when she was about to go in, however, there was a thundering sound of an explosion and people started to run around in a panic. Blindsided, Jaxlynn stumbled around in confusion, getting bumped into by fear-stricken denizens.

 _What the Hell is going on?_ She thought, her excited mood turning to that of concern and fear.

"He's here!" a Pegasus stallion screamed as he ran past her. "The Devil of Hillrock Heights, he's come to kill us all!"

Jaxlynn blinked. The Hillrock Devil is here, LA's most ruthless vigilante? She turned toward the direction of the explosion. Not far from where she stood, an alleyway was glowing red with fire and sure enough, she could hear the sound of screams. Before she could stop herself, she ran toward those screams. She bumped into a lot of people on the way and a lot of them yelled for her to stop.

But instead, she kept going. She could take care of herself, after all...

* * *

Robbie had followed the young man into an empty alleyway. When the man finally noticed him, he tried to intimidate Robbie to fuck off – only to receive a punch to his face. After a vicious beating, the two now stood in a fiery blaze, the sounds of panicking and fleeing denizens playing in the background. The man was forced onto his knees, Robbie standing over him with a hand wrapped around the man's neck and another clamped over his mouth.

The once tough and street-wise man was immediately reduced to a sobbing and pathetic piece of trash. He tried desperately to claw Robbie's hand off his mouth but he was far too weak. He could do nothing but look up in terror as pieces of something hard and small slid painfully down his throat.

"Swallow it..." Robbie whispered menacingly, glowing red eyes staring down at his victim. The man shook his head quickly, not wanting to do what he was being made to do. He gagged abruptly as Robbie pinched his nose shut, his oxygen suddenly cut off.

"I said swallow _it_..." the man tried to shake his head again but he yelped in pain when Robbie suddenly grabbed him by his dirty hair, fisting it tight. "Swallow it or else I'll break your fucking neck!"

The man groaned in agony. He had no choice. He had to do it. He instinctively closed his eyes as he slowly began to swallow...

Without warning, there was a flash of blue energy and Robbie was suddenly thrown off of his feet.

* * *

Jaxlynn arrived just in time to see the man being forced onto his knees. She immediately froze in alarm as she took in the sight before her. There stood the Devil of Hillrock Heights, a tall human male with a flaming skull for a head and menacing red eyes. He wore all black and his gloved hands were clamped tightly over the man's mouth. He kept telling him to swallow something...

Acting quickly, Jaxlynn's horn flared as she sent a blue beam of energy into the hellish vigilante, throwing him off his feet. She ran over to the battered man's side. He was coughing violently and he was spitting something out of his mouth. Jaxlynn stared in horror and disgust when she realized what it was.

Teeth...he was being forced to swallow his own _teeth_!

Before she could help the man up, there was a loud roar and the Devil came at her, swinging a flaming metal bar. She quickly summoned an energy shield, the bar striking its surface at the last minute. She was able to hold shield up for a few moments before cracks began to form on its front.

The Devil reared his arm back once more and brought the flaming bar down, hard. Just as the shield shattered and evaporated, Jaxlynn did a back handspring out of the way, avoiding the bar by a few inches. She landed back on her feet, her body becoming tense and ready to fight.

"I don't know who you are but you don't know what you're dealing with," the Devil called out, dropping the metal bar.

Jaxlynn smirked defiantly. "I was just about to say the same thing." And then her horn flared, a glowing garbage lid sped through the air. The Devil was able to deflect it, only get an uppercut to the face.

With an angry growl, he begun to grab at her but she leapt out of the way. She sent him stumbling again with another beam of energy. He recovered quickly as he swung at her, his fist catching her side. She staggered a bit before erecting another energy shield, cutting off his next blow.

The Devil then swept her feet out from under her, Jaxlynn falling onto the ground with a thud. Grabbing another discarded metal bar, he swung at her again, like how a professional golfer would swing a golf-club. Crying out, Jaxlynn rolled out of the way at the last minute, the bar striking the ground instead.

As she got to her feet, a long whip made out of blue energy materialized in her hand. She snapped it, catching the Devil's right arm, forcing him to drop the bar. He tried to recover but the whip then struck him in the chest, sending agonizing electricity through his body. Before the pain could subside, Jaxlynn's horn flared once again, and another energy beam sent him falling through the air and out of the fiery blaze.

Jaxlynn then pumped her fist in the air in triumph. She was winning.

* * *

Robbie landed hard in a pile of debris, grunting from the impact. He tried to stand up but instantly fell back onto one knee, his whole body aching. Eli was screaming inside his head in anger.

 _ **What the FUCK are you doing?! Why are you getting your ass kicked by a scrawny Screw-head?**_

"She's a…innocent in all this. She doesn't know…any better," Robbie tried to reason, his breathing ragged. That Unicorn can sure pack a punch!

 _ **Innocent, my ass! She's interfering with something she has no business in…**_

"She's just doing what she thinks is right. We don't need to hurt her."

There was a weighty silence before Eli spoke again, his voice congealed in sadistic rage. _**If you won't take care of this bitch, I WILL!**_

"Eli, don't-!" It was too late. Before he knew it, Robbie Reyes faded away and Eli – the Ghost Rider – resurfaced once again, a loud roar erupting from his throat. As he stood up, he heard the snap of the energy whip and before it could wrap around his neck, he caught it in his fist. Turning sharply, he pulled the whip violently and in seconds, Jaxlynn was flying through the air towards him.

The Rider then struck out his palm, catching the mare square in the chest. The impact sent her flying back from whence she came, landing hard in the center of the alley. The Rider stormed after her, his body bursting into flames. His clothes, which had been a hooded jacket and jeans, had melted into a black, leather jumpsuit. An upside-down horseshoe symbol appeared on his chest. Jaxlynn got up her feet, wincing in pain but standing strong.

The Ghost Rider rolled his neck, bones popping. "My turn…"

He took a deep breath and with the intensity of a flamethrower, a blaze of hellish fire spewed out of his mouth. Jaxlynn quickly dropped to the ground as she erected another energy shield, redirecting the stream of fire to sail above her head. However, that didn't stop a few flecks of flame from raining down on her, her wool cap catching on fire.

Screeching, she ripped the cap from her head and threw it to the ground. She sensed something to her left and ducked as a fist came flying over her head. He threw an elbow into the right of her temple, causing her to stagger. The Rider then wrapped an arm around her throat, locking her in a chokehold.

"If you give up, I may let you live," he said, enjoying watching the mare struggle. She head-butted him in the face in response. She broke free and jammed an elbow into the back of his neck, forcing him to fall to his knees. She stood over him, triumph forcing its way back into her veins.

"Beat me down all you want," she taunted. "I have enough determination to last all night long."

The Rider then looked up at her, red eyes shining with new resolve. He laughed menacing. "I guess I need to beat that determination out of you." He pulled out a small ring of keys and fisted them tight. He swung, jabbing his fist into her right side.

Hot agony burned through Jaxlynn's entire body as she felt jagged metal pierced into her skin. Crying out, she staggered away, clutching her side tightly. Several keys protruded between the Rider's fingers, forming a set of brass knuckles. He swung again, catching her in the face. Deep gashes slashed across Jaxlynn's cheek.

Before she could move away, he grabbed her by her hair, bended her over, and kneed her in the stomach. She dry-heaved as she was then thrown onto the ground. She managed to get back up and tried to summon another energy whip. The Rider grabbed her wrist before it could materialize and twisted it hard. Jaxlynn screamed as she felt bones crack.

He kicked out, his boot striking into her chest. Her back hit the wall behind her, panic surging through her system. A few moments ago, she was confident that she could win this. But now, she saw no victory in this losing battle. She tried to cast a teleportation spell but her concentration was cut short as she was sucker-punched in the face. Her head smacked hard against the wall, crimson flowing freely from her nostrils.

The Rider punched her again, and again. One of his punches slammed into her injured side. The new spike of pain caused Jaxlynn's vision to blur as she slowly slid to the ground. He caught her by the neck and lifted her off her feet. She clawed desperately at his fingers, air disappearing from her lungs. When she opened her eyes, hellish red eyes stared back at her. She braced herself, silently waiting for her end to come.

But instead of being put out of her misery like she expected, the Rider released her. After her body had dropped to the ground, she looked up just in time to see the vigilante disappear into the blaze. Groaning softly, she rolled onto her stomach and pulled one of her hands out from under her. Her once pale-yellow left hand now glistened with sticky blood. She then lost consciousness, the sound of incoming sirens reaching her ears.

The Devil of Hillrock Heights had spared her life…


End file.
